The Philosophy, Science & Religion forum has been created as an unmoderated forum. The issues discussed here can and will get very intense. Please show respect and appreciation to alternative views posted here. We appreciate your consideration.

"I donít know, I always thought that it was to become fertilizer, but we even managed too screwed that up, by planting ourselves in impermeable boxes!"

Don't you just hate those dang vault things? Like who wants to be preserved but dead, like a pickle or something.. I want to be wrapped up in a quilt I made and put in a pine box. High class funeral would make it a hardwood box.

Yep, I'm off topic, but hey, I started the thread.

--------------------

Compassion is the sometimes fatal capacity for feeling what it is like inside somebody else's skin. It is the knowledge that there can never really be any peace and joy for me until there is peace and joy finally for you too. - Frederick Buechner

If society prospers at the expense of the intangibles,how can it be called progress?

Elspeth, are you feeling better about your search for meaning? I have been ALL over these forums and sometimes loose track of some that I mean to follow. I haven't forgotten you, just got sidetracked for awhile.

As for me, I want to be wrapped in white linen, and slipped overboard, while a single piper blowís Amazing Grace. Then everyone can get on with fishing.

A bit morbid, but it could be an interest new topic?

I think it says a lot about a person's mindset as well as suggesting something about what they think life is about.

Personally, I would ideally like to be cremated and then strewn over a field of newly-planted chili peppers. Seriously! I have such an affinity for them as a life principle, I can't think of anything I'd rather become part of.

Okay, looks like we're off on a tangent now! I want to be dressed in my dance outfit (Native American, see me photo album), wrapped in my good Pendleton and hung in the big pine on the south end of our property.

as it was said before death is part of life......we grow up knowing we are going to out live our parents(hopefully),grandparents and family pets.....when we are dead it's just clay that's left not the spirit and the laughter not what makes you you!!!that stays in the hearts and minds of those that are left behind. as for dying...well who wouldn't be a bit scared.....the funeral i want involves lots of drinking and telling stories about my misdeeds and the good stuff as well,definately want to be creamated and tossed over the land where my heart lies......new brunswick and maquapit lake!

OK, this burial stuff needs a thread of its own. Too interesting to get buried in a different thread.

Hey Big Dog, thanks for thinking of me. Rather humbling that is.

No, the meaning still eludes me.

I know my children still need me in ways, but they are getting older, the process of nudging out of the nest has begun. My recovering alcoholic husband is learning to take care of himself and Iím letting him.

What I am left with is a too small house that is too crammed with stuff nobody puts away that us supposed to somehow, amidst the clutter, be kept clean. Dishes that just get dirty again. People who want to eat everyday. Clothes that pile up and refuse to jump in the washer and wash themselves. A tiny yard that is nothing but mud from the kids and the dogs. Never-ending chores that no one helps with, no one appreciates, but which weigh upon me day and night.

I have writings that probably will never be deemed good enough to be published. Forays into the publishing world end with rejection. Talents that just arenít quite good enough to make any money off of and money is something I need.

My kids need a taxi service to get them to and from three different schools every day and then all the multitude of after school activities. They add up quickly when there are four kids. And so do the costs.

Their schedules dictate my life. Their schedules exhaust me. After I get done what has to be done, I have no energy for anything else. And probably a good thing, because there is nothing else.

Iíve listed what I want from life and everything I want, except for my children, I canít have. It used to be enough to immerse myself completely in their needs. It isnít anymore, in a great part because they donít need me 24/7 like they used to.

So, whatís left?

Iím not qualified to be hired to do anything I could feel passionate about. I donít have the money or time to go back to school. Most masters programs hold their classes at night to accommodate working people. Thatís when logistically Iím the busiest. Iíve got four kids fast approaching college and I canít justify student loans form myself when they need their chance. Not their fault I blew mine.

What was the question anywayÖ.. Oh, yeah, meaningÖ.

Fundamental Christianity says the purpose of life is to win souls to Christ. The thing is, I donít think the way that has come to be portrayed is quite biblical. The purpose is to spread the Good News and then itís up to the listener to decide what they are going to do with it. The Good News is out there already in this country. Often distorted, but out there.

Sometimes I think life would make more sense working with people in their most simplest needs. Food, shelter, medical care, learningÖ Rocking crack babies to sleepÖ.

This society has gotten way too complicated for me. I want to live in a commune. A community of like minded people who grow their own food, raise their own livestock, have intellectual discussions, make music, laugh, dance, revel in a sunny day, and snuggle down on cozy rainy ones.

Know how to divide the work according to talent.

Welcome in all for a visit, but only those who believe as does the community to stay. I do not feel the need to be inclusive to the world at all times. I want a place of respite where I can be who I am without having to defend it or accept within my home space to live those whose beliefs differ significantly. Iím not denying anyone their beliefs, but I want a place where I can be with people who believe as do I. OK, weird dream and completely impractical. Maybe I should become a Quaker.

This is really hard -- it sounds like a real box you are in, and especially when not having enough money means not having freedom. It isn't going to last, and partly that's good, but on the other hand you have said you already feel sad anticipating the time when being completely consumed by the kids' needs will suddenly be over. I haven't got practical suggestions I haven't already said, but I hope you keep the creative life, especially the writing, clear and coming forth. I think it's far more vital to you personally than a thing to make money with, wonderful as that would be, and as much as I wish it for you.

Life really is a bunch of seemingly separate occurrences. And maybe there is no pattern, no master weaver in the sky putting it all together. But if you put a hundred random flowers in a great big vase, what a beautiful picture that would make and how sweet it would smell.

Life really is a bunch of seemingly separate occurrences. And maybe there is no pattern, no master weaver in the sky putting it all together. But if you put a hundred random flowers in a great big vase, what a beautiful picture that would make and how sweet it would smell.

I have to tell you Elspeth, I really like the attitude your post expresses about finding beauty in the simple things. From your description of your life, it must be a hard conversion from Oprah moments to Roshi moments.

I once read a story about Ralph Waldo Emerson, I dont' know if its true or just a tall tale. Apparantly one day his house caught fire and soon it was engulfed. He and his wife escaped and were standing watching their house burn. His wife turned to him understandably upset saying "My God we've lost everything", and Emerson said "Yes, I know - but isn't it a beautiful fire?"

I once read a story about Ralph Waldo Emerson, I dont' know if its true or just a tall tale.† Apparantly one day his house caught fire and soon it was engulfed.† He and his wife escaped and were standing watching their house burn.† His wife turned to him understandably upset saying "My God we've lost everything", and Emerson said "Yes, I know - but isn't it a beautiful fire?"

It reminds me of the story that is told of Sir Isaac Newton, whose spaniel named Diamond overturned a candle onto about twenty years of his work. He said something like "Oh, Diamond, you have no idea in your doggy little brain what a load of damage you just did, do you?" and then sat down right then and there and started to reconstruct his notes. Well, one account says he did that. Another account I ran into says he had his second nervous breakdown first -- but he still reconstructed his notes.